


Hand Wash Only

by Xiiee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ghost Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Strangulation, and so they fucc, breath play, hanzo wanna eat the cowboy, its not monster per se but its not exactly ghost either, kind of?, the cowboy doesnt want to be eaten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 08:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiiee/pseuds/Xiiee
Summary: Kannerez noz are spirits who haunt public fountains in hope to capture living beings -- and said beings are never to be seen again. Except they get harder and harder to catch, and Hanzo desperately needs to get his hands on one of these living, breathing people. Comes along Jesse McCree, who won't get caught by the spirit's simple tricks. Hanzo will have to resort to other means in order to trap his prey. Lingerie should work, right?





	Hand Wash Only

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Strange Oddities McHanzo fanzine! Go check them out on tumblr and twitter to give them some love, the whole team did a wonderful job and i'm honored to have been on both TA and SO with them <3

People did not buy into doing one’s laundry by a fountain anymore. With the age of electricity and running water came washing machines, and soon passersby grew suspicious of the night washers. The  _ kannerez noz _ usually asked for help from people to wring the linens they washed, only to trap and crush them in the very cloth they asked for help with. It was not an easy calling, and if they managed to get a drunkard or two every once in a while, it was considered a big win on their part. Hanzo himself had been trying to catch a mortal for months without success.

Didn’t help that there was only one person who passed by his fountain at night. The man knew what Hanzo was about, too, which added to the problem: he was very well aware that he must not come closer to a being some thought a spirit and others thought a fae. The man knew danger and how to avoid it. It didn’t stop Hanzo from trying in all different kinds of ways.

Night one, about a month ago, had been the linens. Did not work one bit. Hanzo then moved onto blankets, pants, even shirts. Every night, the stranger shook his head and walked on.

“Aw, hell no, I’m not falling for your tricks! Whatever you do, you won’t get to eat me. Go fish somewhere else, will ya?” he even said once.

He should have known better.

No one challenged Hanzo Shimada. Sooner or later, like it or not, he would feast on that mortal, and it would be the Best. Meal. Ever. He just had to be creative about it.

Night twenty-eight was going to be the one. Lingerie would do it, right?

Hanzo had managed to find something that would even fit on his form—and it was a good fit, at that. The white lace babydoll was exactly what he needed to lure the human closer, and then it would be a piece of cake to drag him into the fountain and have a snack. All he needed now was for said snack to actually show up so he could put his plan into action.

  
  
  


1 AM struck and the man still hadn’t shown up. This was getting frustrating, so much so that Hanzo couldn’t help but dig his fingers into the delicate fabric and wring it tightly.

“Another night wasted,” he muttered, twisting the babydoll in his fists, feeling the water run down his fingers and back into the fountain. He was ready to leave for another of his old haunts, defeated, when the familiar voice rang closer than he expected.

“Darlin’, I don’t know what they did to you, but whoever owns that babydoll won’t be happy seein’ you ruining their stuff. That’s no way to treat lace, buddy.”

As tempting as it was to choke him with said babydoll—the  _ nerve! _ —and be done with it, Hanzo simply groaned and tossed it back into the water. The stranger had come close enough to see right through his human disguise. Surely he had noticed those too-dark eyes, those too-sharp teeth, that skin that sometimes appeared translucent in the moonlight, losing its opacity for a split second to reveal bones black as night before regaining its pale and silky appearance. Yet he still bent over the edge of the fountain and took the garment in his large, brown hands and plunged it gently into the water.

“There. Like that. You don’t wanna stress the fabric.” Hanzo watched as the man pulled the babydoll out again, letting the water dribble out of it. “You just let it dry flat, out of the sun. But that part wouldn’t be too hard for you; I only see you out at night, spirit.”

Having him so close was surprising in itself. From the way the man talked, he knew exactly what Hanzo was. He probably knew of how his people caught passersby in their white linens by trapping their hands as they wrung the fabric, pulling them into the cloth and twisting tighter and tighter until their bones were crushed under the tension. How the water in the fountain turned red after they were done with their victims.

Hanzo inched closer.

“You are awfully confident for someone who knows what he’s up against.”

The man laughed, to Hanzo’s surprise—a deep, warm laugh that sent a surge of heat through his cheeks. He was certain he could not blush, but there was still a tingle lingering on his face.

“What can I say? You looked like you were killing that poor thing. I had to come and save it.”

Whether it was the jab at how he treated laundry that pushed him into action or the way the stranger chuckled again, Hanzo wasn’t sure. All he knew was he was having his meal  _ tonight _ .

Moving swiftly, he slammed his elbow in between the man’s shoulders, knocking him off balance and into the fountain. His hands found a thick, strong neck—not strong enough to withstand the cold, hard hands of a hungry spirit. He squeezed tightly, watching as bubbles rose to the surface, putting his weight on the man’s biceps to keep the upper part of his body submerged and minimize the thrashing. Hands dug into his thighs, legs splashed in the water, something warm and hard pressed against his—

_ Oh, what the fuck. _

The surprise was enough to make Hanzo release the man’s neck and back off into the water, squinting as he watched his victim sit up with a gasp, coughing out water and massaging his throat.

“You tried to drown me!”

“And you popped a boner right against my ass, so are you really in any position to comment?” Hanzo huffed, ignoring the indignation in the other’s voice.

“Uh, yeah— _ You _ tried to  _ drown me _ .” There was something else in the man’s eyes, maybe a hint of embarrassment at whatever happened down in his trousers while he was just about to be turned into spirit food. Which was understandable: it was not what Hanzo would’ve called a survival reflex.

Hanzo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, because that’s how it works, that’s how we eat—did you  _ really  _ get a hard-on while I was—” His frown softened, the edges of his mouth turning into a smug grin—a bit too wide, unnaturally sharp. “ _ You liked it. _ ”  

The man looked away, wet hair plastered against his skull, muttering as he turned to hoist himself out of the fountain. Hanzo watched as he moved, eyeing the folds of blue jeans that clung to his thick thighs and ass, the fabric still pulled taut at the front. Even embarrassed, he cut an impressive figure, effectively making Hanzo’s mouth run dry.

Intercourse was not uncommon back in the day, when people would come to the fountains to either do their laundry or help others with it. Back then, contact with humans was easier. Promiscuity was something that had almost disappeared because of laundromats and washing machines. Even for Hanzo, it had been quite a while since anyone had dared approach. Despite the way this encounter started, his hunger had made a full 180-degree turn. 

“I could take care of your problem, you know.”

“Excuse me?” The stranger had taken a few steps away from the fountain. He stared back, eyebrows knitting together. “Nah, that ain’t workin’, you just wanna have your meal. You won’t get it from me.” Curse you, washing machines.

“Your name. What is it?”

“Wha—it’s Jesse. Let’s keep it at that.”

“Well then, Jesse, I promise not to eat you.” Leaning against the edge of the fountain, Hanzo brushed his hair out of his face. He deliberately gave the man—Jesse—the up-and-down before smirking. “Or, I promise not to eat anything you don’t want me to.”

Jesse frowned, taking a good look at the fountain, then at Hanzo. He squinted, his inner debate evident as he crossed his arms and bit on his lower lip. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke up.

“I have one condition. You gotta wear that thing you brought with you.”

  
  
  


The lace felt light and cold against his skin—and a little tight over his chest. The babydoll was still wet from Jesse’s earlier demonstration, and Hanzo could feel the water dripping down his ass and legs, a stark contrast with the warm hand that rested on his thigh. Producing no body warmth himself, it was as if Jesse’s touch spread heat wherever his fingers pressed against him.

The first contact had been a little awkward, to say the least. They had settled on the wide edge of the fountain, Hanzo straddling Jesse, the babydoll riding up his thighs and bunching on his hips in wet folds. So much for letting it dry flat.

“You’re so light, it’s crazy—” The man below him marveled, warm brown eyes following where his hands dragged. His fingers brushed down Hanzo’s forearm and wrist, ghosting against his palm. Hanzo could feel himself shiver at the lightness of the touch.

“Less talking, more touching,” he tutted, guiding Jesse’s hands to his hips. He wouldn’t allow the most important parts to go neglected because his would-be meal thought it more interesting to marvel at every little detail that was even remotely alien to him.

Luckily, Jesse picked up the pace, fingers brushing against the underside of Hanzo’s cock, pulling a low keen out of him. There was something in the contrast of their body temperatures that made Hanzo far more receptive to his touch. Cold hands reached between them, undoing the button of Jesse’s pants and tugging them down—almost clawing as the man shimmied out of them. Hanzo didn’t have a thought to spare regarding the size of his partner’s dick. It felt  _ heavy _ in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around it and gave a few lazy strokes just under the head. Smirking as he watched Jesse bite his lower lip, he let go of him, both hands grabbing onto his shoulders and fingers digging into the flesh as Hanzo slammed him flat onto his back, grinding his ass against the full length of his cock.

There were probably too many sharp teeth in his smirk.

Hanzo bent down, taking an earlobe in between his lips and giving it a soft bite. He could feel Jesse rolling his hips, trying to get as much friction between them as possible, and had to suppress a choked moan.

It had been quite a while. Far too long, even.

“I want you to remember who’s in charge here, stranger.” He managed to keep his voice relatively still, having to pause as he felt Jesse press against his hole as he ground against him. Lowering himself a little more, he nipped at the man’s neck, right on the bruise his own hands had left there earlier. “If you’re good, I might even let you indulge in your twisted little kinks.”

Jesse had as much fight in him as he did back in the fountain, and the glare he shot Hanzo only riled him up even more. He already felt a tightness settling into his gut and had the thought that he might not last that long. He had to hand it to him; Jesse was handsome and his fiery temper had Hanzo…interested.

Without warning, Hanzo lowered himself onto his partner right as Jesse teased his hole again, letting him slide in with the ease that normally came either with practice or impressive amounts of lube—an advantage to being semi-corporeal. Jesse muffled his surprise by biting onto his own hand, but it could only do so much to suppress his groans as he adjusted to the rhythm Hanzo dictated.

Despite setting the pace and keeping it up, Hanzo had trouble holding back his own moans, gritting his teeth to keep the sounds in. The warmth of Jesse  _ inside _ of him, combined with how stretched he was around Jesse’s cock, was enough to drive him wild. He felt his body actually give under the man’s hands on his hips, skin going translucent in haphazard patches to reveal bones as dark and sharp as obsidian before becoming opaque again. The slapping of skin against skin, the incredible heat that spread from Jesse’s body to his own, was nearly unbearable. He could feel Jesse grazing his hands up his side, pulling the babydoll up to squeeze his chest, thumbs rolling over his nipples—making the coil wind tighter and tighter in his groin. Yanking Jesse’s hands down, Hanzo bent over and found his partner’s neck.

The pressure he applied was not as firm as when he had tried to strangle the man before, allowing a small stream of air in. Jesse abruptly stopped his thrusting, fear appearing in his eyes for a split second as he looked up at Hanzo, who loosened his hold on him.

“You won’t kill me  _ now _ , will ya?” His breath was ragged, his voice hoarse.

Hanzo leaned in to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I promised. I will not eat you.”

“…Three taps means stop.”

“Three taps,” he repeated with a nod, looking down at the man almost tenderly—and letting out a shout as an unanticipated thrust pressed against his prostate, bringing him right back to the edge, but not going over just yet. His hands went back to Jesse’s neck and pressed, cutting off the oxygen entirely. Jesse’s thrusts became erratic, more powerful, out of rhythm with Hanzo’s grinding. The moonlight reflected in the fountain and on them, making Hanzo’s skin disappear on his shoulders, legs and stomach like ripples on water. He could even see Jesse thrusting in and out of him, and while the experience was strange, it was also—

Three taps on his forearm.

Hanzo released Jesse’s neck and immediately felt the heat of his partner’s release as oxygen came back to him. He could even see the creamy white fluid shooting inside of him, just before his skin became alabaster again. He could feel the tightness in his core, how it threatened to snap at any moment, how he was unable to hold back the shivers on his legs and the soft groans that escaped him. Jesse pulled him down, pushing him right over the edge as he pressed his lips to Hanzo’s nipple through the lace.

Breathing heavily, he rested against Jesse’s chest for what seemed like an eternity. A low, amused chuckle brought him back to his senses.

“So, reckon y’won’t eat me now,” Jesse drawled, his smile reaching his eyes. They were the warm color of honey.

“Don’t push your luck, stranger.” Hanzo didn’t want to move. Not yet.

“Y’know,” Jesse continued, a laugh in his voice, “this was nice. Next time, try wearing a blue one. I’m sure it’d suit you well.”


End file.
